What Might Have Been
by RaichuTec
Summary: There is always a part of our pasts that we mistakenly believe will never return to haunt us. Yaoi implications. Rated R for strong language and graphic violence.
1. Wild Blood

Standard Disclaimer 

Standard Disclaimer: Xenogears characters and settings belong to Squaresoft, all else is mine, babee.

Author's Voice: Holy cow, I'm actually writing for something other than FF8. No, I have not forgotten my other stories. I'm merely putting them on the back burner for now while I figure out what to do with them. Since I'm working a lot lately, I find I no longer have as much time to craft these stories.

**What Might Have Been**

It was mostly quiet over Bledavik. Somewhere, a dog barked. Children out way past their bedtimes screamed at one another with their youthful games of hide and seek. Laughter echoed from one of the bars along the central square. And all Bart could do was lean over the balcony of the royal palace's highest tower and listen in on the city that he ruled over now. Calloused hands felt over the limestone that constructed the railing holding him back from taking a flying leap to the ground below. Hands that once knew the heat of battle by whip or Gear controls were now going idle to attend to the duties of a King. He tried. He tried repeatedly to give the kingdom back to the people; it was in his father's will, his greatest wish. But after the events that nearly destroyed the world, the people cried out for a King. And they got their wish. Bartolomei Fatima was a king now, like it or not.

"Your Majesty?" a quiet voice called from the shadows of the royal suite. Sigurd's taller, far more graceful form drew back one of the curtains, the fabric rustling against a hand before swaying closed behind him again. "I was looking for you. You've been elusive as of late."

"Sig, you could just call me Bart, you know," came the terse response, Bart refusing to look over his shoulder at the half-brother who insisted on using formal titles even in private, "Or shall I start calling you Your Highness? All this is just as much yours as it is mine."

"You never minded me calling you Young Master," Sigurd replied, sounding almost amused by the youth's protests. However, he remained quiet at the insistence that the kingdom was half his. Even now, the stoic man quietly refused this birthright his father tried to bestow upon him before Edbart's untimely death.

"I grew up with it, Sig. You and Maison always called me that. Things are different now. I'm your brother. For just once… call me Bart, would you?"

A hand reached up toward Bart's hair, brushing sungold locks away from his face, fingers touching against the eyepatch briefly before withdrawing. It brought the young king to shiver, feeling that brief empathic touch from the taller man beside him. How strongly Sigurd loved him shamed him into silence, no longer willing to snap and behave in such a surly manner, for the moment at least. Sigurd sighed heavily, joining his half-brother at the edge of the balcony to lean against the limestone railing. "You've always been my brother, Bart. All that's changed is that now you know."

Silence permeated the still air between the brothers, each pondering what to say to the other. It was actually Sigurd who finally broke it with a question that sounded more like a statement, "You're not happy."

Bart glanced up sharply, somewhat startled at the pronouncement. Golden eyebrows furrowed, a frown creasing his lips downwards. "Well no shit, Sig. I haven't been happy for a while. Thanks for noticing, finally. You all set me up as a King, I can't get anyone to even consider our father's will and greatest wish and now today I'm told I'm marrying Margie next month whether I like it or not because it's always been the tradition for the Nisan Mother and King of Aveh to rule jointly."

Sigurd sighed again, touching at his temple at the onslaught of his brother's emotions. "Perhaps I was understating your feelings, then." It certainly felt like it. What could he possibly tell Bart to assuage these feelings? There wasn't much, other than the same things the youth had heard time and again. He was born into this responsibility, and everyone has to do things they don't want to. It's life. "I don't think Margie is a bad match for you, Y—Bart."

Bart sulked after that, a little upset with himself that he'd snapped at Sigurd, but far too stubborn to apologize for it, either. "She's a kid, Sig. I don't have the heart to…" he trailed off and just shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of the helplessness he felt inside. On the Yggridsil, he was always in command. Maison and Sigurd could beg him all they wanted to not to do something but he could just go ahead and do it anyway. Now that he was King, well, things didn't work that way. There were politics to consider, nobles to placate, rules to be followed. He often felt like he'd been tossed into a nest of vipers and had to somehow navigate it without getting bit.

"She's sixteen. She's no more a child than you are," Sigurd pointed out, resting a hand on Bart's shoulder in an attempt to make him turn around and look at him. The youth jerked his shoulder free from the attempt, scowling now in typical Fatima stubbornness. The elder brother shook his head after that and let out another long sigh. "Bart, someday perhaps you'll see that this is for the best. I know it's cold comfort and I know I sound like I'm talking down to you. But Maison and I have never wanted anything other than to protect and love you."

"Smother me, that's a better word for it," Bart spat out, feeling rather spiteful at the moment. Sigurd finally decided to just give up, hearing that. When his brother threw a temper tantrum, he was excessively good at demeaning insults.

"Then I'll leave you here to sulk. We can discuss this when you decide to behave like a man," he replied calmly, doing his best not to wince at the angry and hurt look shot at him for the effort. But, he didn't remain after that, drawing the curtain aside to stride through the royal suite and back out to the corridors of the palace. Soft light filled the halls via floorlights near the walls. Since Shakhan's defeat, there had been extensive renovations to remove the usurper's presence from the palace. Already things resembled the times of Edbart. Sigurd smiled faintly at the thought, the face of his father appearing mentally for a moment. It saddened him that Bart never really knew his father, and sometimes he wondered what might have been. How his brother might have turned out had Shakhan not taken everything and broken it that fateful night so long ago.

"You appear pensive, Master Sigurd. Mayhap you've spoken to His Majesty recently?" Maison's voice stilled Sigurd's thoughts and made him turn to face the old knight.

"Yes, Bart is a handful. And he's still sulking about the betrothal," Sigurd sighed in reply.

"The Young Master has always been a handful, Sigurd."

That brought both men to chuckle; memories stirred of a much younger 'Young Master' and the antics he got into. This lead to reminiscing and eventually to both men ending up downstairs in the kitchens, drinking tea and talking fondly of another, far more innocent and idyllic time.

"Your father was just as bad as bad as the Young Master, if not worse," Maison sighed, shaking his head over the rim of his teacup. "In fact," he then added, the cup being immediately set down, "I recall a time when we both were admonished by his father for getting into the sewers and coming home reeking to high heaven. So, you see Master Sigurd, with time most Fatimas do finally settle and so shall Master Bartolomei."

Sigurd couldn't help but laugh at that image, never having imagined that Maison was any kind of troublemaker as a child. Then again, he never thought of his own father as that kind, either. Taking into account his own wild days at Jugend, it made sense, in the scheme of things. Bart was still only eighteen, and had a lot of energy to run off before settling into adulthood. "I never realized it was so easily explained."

"Yes," Maison agreed with a nod of his head, followed by a knowing wink, "It is merely a Fatima trait to be rather… wild while young."

Sigurd was about to begin another tale, something Bart had done while young, when a quiet coughing interrupted the pair. The two glanced toward the doorway to the kitchens to see one of the servants standing there, clutching her skirts and behaving rather nervously near the pair.

"Excuse me, Sirs, but I was asked to come find you. His Majesty is missing."

"Missing?" Sigurd asked incredulously as he got to his feet at nearly the same time as Maison. Surely Bart would not be so childish as to pull the running away stunt. Before, when he was much much younger, he had tried on a number of occasions to run away, only to be found by Maison and given the royal spanking he had coming to him. But now… there was so much more at stake. He wasn't a child trying to run away, he was a man and had responsibilities. The thought made Sigurd's blood boil with an anger that rarely surfaced anymore.

"Dammit," Sigurd cursed, uncharacteristic of him, but in anger even he resorted to unpleasantries. "Maison, if he's done what I think he's done, I am going to kill him."

The old knight just sighed and rubbed at one of his temples before pulling out a hankerchief to dab at his forehead. "You and I both, Master Sigurd. Perhaps we should search the palace first. He might not really be missing, just hiding to think. Sometimes your father did that."

Sigurd nodded in agreement, "And when I find him, he's going to discover that he is not too old to spank."

(To be continued… my I sure made things sound nice and happy and normal to begin with. Next chapter I'll start twisting stuff, don't worry.)


	2. Staring at the Sun

Part 2 

**Part 2: Staring at the Sun**

Bart kicked idly at the tile floor. There wasn't anything there to kick, really, but as Sigurd left him standing there on the balcony, he had the sudden urge to just hit something. In lieu of breaking a hand against the limestone railing, he just randomly kicked at the air, sneering at the curtains as they swished closed in Sigurd's wake. Turning again, he stared out at the darkened city below, sectors mapped out by the light of streetlamps. A warm breeze lazily drifted in from above, curling through sungold hair before letting it flop back against his forehead. It was so damned unfair, all of it. Here he felt as trapped as a wild stallion roped, saddled, and ridden daily till they finally manage to break him.

Oh, he knew what they'd say to him. He'd heard it all his life. This is what he was born for, what they groomed him for. It didn't make the reality of it any easier to swallow. If he could, he'd toss all of it aside and go back to being the Captain of the Yggridsil. Not a prince, not a King, just a man.

Of course, he had too many reasons to stay in his current position. The largest of which had finally be laid to rest at the tomb in Nisan. Edbart Fatima, whose corpse had been found in Shakhan's quarters, left there to rot under the man's watchful eye, had been given a proper funeral by his youngest son. It had been his Will that drove Bart to the eventual goal of freeing Aveh. He hadn't expected to end up a King, however, determined to return the rule of the country over to its people. But that wasn't what the people wanted, in the end. With the mutations still being cured, slaves being freed, unease rocking the country now that the war with Kislev had been called off and peaceful talks begun with their former rival's new Kaiser, the people wanted a ruler, desperately needed the old ways to remain established for their own peace of minds. The people demanded a King. They got Bart.

At first the figured he could handle it. After the events that nearly destroyed the world, he returned and accepted the position with a bit of hesitation. Then the headaches began. Not only did he have to make snap decisions regarding important issues, he quickly learned there were plenty of games afoot among the nobles and in the Court. Anything he did, any gesture he made was measured in their eyes, weighed and then they'd come to him with honeyed tongues and poisonous intentions. If not for Maison and Sigurd, he surely would have drowned in all of it by now. He'd never been prepared for subtleties; always running into things headfirst and figuring it would work out in the end. Now he knew, one wrong word or one poor judgment no longer reflected on just Yggridsil's crew. Now it affected all of Aveh.

Then, just when he thought things couldn't be worse, down came the news that he was to marry Margie. The Nisan Mother always rules jointly with the King, after all, so the match would be perfect. They just forgot to consult Bart about it first. Combined, it finally became the proverbial last straw to a youth already taxed by responsibilities he never fathomed before.

Flicking the heavy curtain aside, Bart left behind the city to return to the royal apartments. No more thoughts of flying over that balcony to the streets below and escaping. Once upon a time he would have told all of them to go screw themselves and made his getaway, but that urge had been bled out of him by one too many lectures from Maison. Besides, he was only nine back then. One of the servants had begun a blaze in the fireplace, the light flickering off the furniture, setting shadows to dance against the walls in ethereal patterns. Nothing of Shakhan's remained in these apartments; Bart himself personally removed all of it, wanting nothing of the former tyrant's tainted possessions left behind. All he kept was the four-poster bed, and only because that had originally belonged to his father. But the rooms were so damned huge. Bart never needed this much space. His room at the Yggridsil was small and cramped, but it was… home. Hollow, it seemed to him. Empty and hollow.

Bootheels clicked twice on the tiles until he reached the carpeting, changing then to a soft squish as Bart paced back and forth the length of the bedroom. He wondered what the others were up to. Last he heard, Fei and Elly were in Nisan, helping out Billy and Margie with those who were still recovering from the mutations. Rico had assumed the position of Kaiser over Kislev. Maria returned to Shevat to help Queen Zephyr rebuild. And, of course, Sigurd and Maison stayed at his side to show him the ropes on how to be a King.

Pausing at the bed, he leaned against the frame, resting his forehead against the stained woodwork. "Father, I never imagined it was this hard. How in the world did you manage it?"

The firelight had died to mere embers in the fireplace. Outside, the city was relatively silent save the call of crickets and the steady rise and fall of droning locusts. Morning threatened falsely with shades of dawn coloring the sky to the east. Restlessly Bart turned in his sleep, tangled in the sheets and gripping one pillow like a drowning man might cling to a piece of floating driftwood. With a sudden gasp, he sat up in bed, the nightmare haunting him shattering, the fragments then fading into the back of his conscious mind to eventually be purged. He could recall bits and pieces of it still, but now awake, the details were already fading.

Eyes having adjusted to the darkness long ago, he stared at the shadowy shapes of furniture and decorations in the room. His dream fevered mind attempted to change them to the demons of his past, the monsters that used to make him cower in his bed and eventually call for Sigurd or Maison. There was no way in hell he was going to call out like some eight year old child, however. Forcing the logical part of his imaginative brain to wake up and focus, he quickly explained away everything as Maison had taught him to do. It was a trick he employed far more often than he liked to admit. Laying back down again, he rolled over to stare at the fireplace with those glowing embers. In a manner that disconcerted him, they seemed to wink at him, in and out, like malevolent stars. So he shut his eyes to block it out.

_ Son?_

Opening his eyes again, Bart blinked. He heard that. He knew he heard that. Was his mind still trying to play tricks on him? The curtains toward the balcony rustled then, the sound nearly making his heart leap into his throat. The wind, perhaps it was merely the wind outside. He shut his eyes again.

_Bartolomei... my son. Wake up._

Now there was no way that was the wind. Bart propped himself up on one elbow, looking around for the source of that voice. Was someone trying to play a practical joke on him? If so, this was not funny in the slightest.

"Who are you? Where are you?"

_I am your father, Bartolomei. I am not sure where I am... It is so very cold here and dark. Free me from this, Bartolomei, please._

Bart tried untangling himself from the blankets then, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to stand there, still sharply searching the room for the source of that voice. "Father? You... you... you died. If this is your specter, please, find rest. Shakhan is defeated. It's over. Aveh is free again."

_I am not dead, Bartolomei. Shakhan left me in some timeless form of statis. Please, free me from this prison. I have languished here so long..._

With that, the voice died as the last of the embers burnt out entirely, filling the room with an acrid smoky scent. "Father? Father!" Bart called, only to receive the sound of his feet brushing against the carpet in reply as he drifted aimlessly through the bedroom.

It would only be an hour later that Sigurd and Maison would crash into the royal suite and find their King gone, as well as one of his old backpacks, both his whips and some of his clothing. No one thought he'd leave Andvari behind, and so the prince easily slipped out in old Brigandier, the faithful Gear he used for years before locating the family Omnigear.

"Elly?" Fei called quietly, peering around the immense trunk of an old pine tree. Elly glanced over her shoulder, smiling faintly as she patted a spot beside her on the bench she occupied. Settling into the proffered spot, he leaned in against the former Solaris officer to see what book she carried in her hands at the moment.

"History of Nisan," she said before he could ask, "Margie gave it to me, told me it might fill in some of the gaps in my memory."

"Has it?"

"Oh some, but I think the author elaborated a bit much on some subjects in here. I'm finding a lot of exaggerations."

Fei chuckled, reaching to touch one of the pages, which was really just an excuse to then let his fingers drift upward and touch one of Elly's hands. Snapping the book shut with a thwap, she turned in toward him, not one to mind some time to shower her lover with affection. It seemed that lately they had so little time for one another, so every touch, every kiss was precious. Elly spent much of her time helping Margie and Billy reassure the people, tending to the wounded and ill as well as aiding Citan in finding a cure for those still touched by the mutations. Many recovered already, having left to help other areas of the world to cope with the changes wrought in Deus' wake. But that still left a good number behind, and that meant much of her time was devoted to them. So many saw her as the reincarnation of Sophia that she feared overshadowing the real Nisan Mother, Margie.

"Ahem... 'scuse," a voice spoke up, after the clearing of a throat. Fei and Elly sighed in tandem, breaking their embrace in order to focus their attention on the interloper. Margie Fatima stood there, the tips of her fingers pressed against her lips and a touch of pink coloring her cheeks. Once so childlike, she had done a massive amount of maturing in the last months. But some things never changed, and being embarrassed catching the two in one of their moments never failed to make the girl blush.

"Sorry... I wouldn't normally bother you guys but--"

"No, no, Margie it's ok," Elly lied. It wasn't ok, but she didn't have the heart to be angry with the girl. "What do you need? Is everyone all right in the infirmary?"

"It's not the refugees," Margie quickly launched into her explanation, all embarrassment fading away to something more urgent instead, "There's something going on below the Cathedral. The Sisters and I felt it at prayer this morning. Like an earthquake of some sort. We ignored it, but it happened again and the door that leads down into the catacombs, to the burial tombs, opened up rather suddenly. I've been trying to find you guys since then. The Sisters are terrified and they all left for now. I had them go to one of the buildings in town till I can figure out what's going on."

Fei frowned and exchanged looks with Elly before replying, "That sounds serious, Margie... maybe Elly and I should go have a look."

"Not without me you're not," Margie insisted, "Besides, there are some areas down there that only Fatimas can get to, so unless you intend to get Bart and Sigurd over here, you'll have to take me along."

Elly chuckled, patting Fei's cheek when she saw his expression of frustration. "Let her go, Fei. She's right, we probably shouldn't wait on Bart and Sigurd to get here and she might be needed."

Fei then turned that frustrated look in toward Elly, lowering his voice in attempt to keep Margie from overhearing him, "If anything happens to her, Bart will string us both up."

"Oh, I'm a big girl, Fei," Margie spoke up with a touch of ire, indicating his attempt at murmuring out of earshot had failed, "I won't need Barty to come in and rescue me again."

At that point, Fei just threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "All right, all right. Let's go check it out then. But I swear to God, Margie, anything odd starts happening, you better get out of there and let me and Elly handle it."


	3. Secrets Veiled

**Part 3: Secrets Veiled **

To Fei and Elly's surprise, Billy waited for them at the entrance to the catacombs, dressed in his priestly robes and yet bearing the gunbelt with his favored pistol. Seeing them approach, he bowed slightly to Margie in a formal greeting and then smiled at the couple, "I was wondering how long it would take Mother Margie to find you two. You can be difficult to locate when you want to."

"Oh stop calling me that, Billy. We're not attending Prayer at the moment," Margie chuckled, reaching up to pinch one of Billy's cheeks in a manner that he hated. This made him back up a step to avoid her catching said cheek between her thumb and forefinger and instead she snapped them in disappointment at the lost opportunity. There were few people Billy actually relaxed around, and Margie was one of them. At least in private. Publicly he was nothing less than respectful to the Nisan Mother and frowned at her childish mannerisms way too often.

"I take it you're going with us?" Fei asked, realizing that he was relieved by the company of the former Etone. Alone with Margie and Elly, Fei felt an overwhelming responsibility to protect both women. He knew Elly was capable, having been trained for combat as an officer of Solaris, but he couldn't help himself. As he often reminded her, if he no longer felt the need to see to her welfare, then he no longer loved her.

"Yes, Margie came to me first. I told her to find the two of you. Far better to explore these places in larger numbers."

"Well, thank goodness for your quick thinking there, Billy," Elly laughed, "Fatimas have such a tendency to leap before they look."

That brought out laughter from everyone but Margie, who only looked a little sheepish at the truth in the accusation.

The mirth soon died to give birth to apprehension as the quartet descended into the mausoleum. Centuries of Kings were buried here, as well as relatives to the Fatima dynasty. There was the moldy scent of decay and layers of dust. No one came down here that often. Not since the last King, Edbart IV, had finally received a long overdue burial. Margie sneezed, blessed in a chorus by Fei, Elly and Billy in unison.

"Quiet down here," Elly commented, her voice abjectly echoing through the silence. The others merely nodded mutely in response. For some reason, there was a palpable need to remain quiet. As though their very presence violated the sanctity of the dead and by stilling their voices and even their thoughts, they were less intrusive.

"I don't see anything amiss," Billy eventually said. Rows of tombs rose around them, each one decorated with elaborate sigils and symbolism representative of the time period. Fei paused, gesturing for the others to do the same. Off in the distance, they finally heard it. The faint sound of something heavy moving in clunky steps. The ground beneath their feet vibrated almost imperceptively with each thump.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear it sounded like a Gear."

"Whatever it is," Margie said just after swallowing a lump in her throat, "It's big. Should we keep going?"

"Maybe you should go back, Mother," Billy said, looking at Margie. An argument was about to ensue over this, Margie lifting a finger to waggle it at the former Etone and her lips parting to begin berating him for assuming she couldn't take care of herself, but this was all cut short by a sudden rush of air from the corridor ahead of them, carrying on it the stench of old violence and rotting flesh. It was enough to turn all of them white where they stood. Fei's eyes widened, instinctively holding an arm out in front of Elly to push her behind him as if the enemy were suddenly standing in front of them.

Billy, used to that smell, didn't bother covering his nose the way Margie did. "That... no. Wels here? It's impossible. The mutants are all being treated. Wels and Reapers are..."

"Perhaps there are some hiding here? Those who may not know it's safe to come out?" Elly suggested as she struggled to get around Fei and keep him from playing the overprotective boyfriend.

"If that's the case, then we had better proceed cautiously. They may not realize we mean them no harm. And they might see us as snacks rather than saviors," Billy replied with conviction to his voice, drawing out the pistol to check the ammunition in it. Though he swore he would never kill a Wel again, not after finding out the truth, he would never endanger his friends either.

It was Margie who decided everything for them. Fists clenched at her sides, she frowned up at whatever lay ahead of them. "This is the tomb of my family. I'm sick and tired of people defiling the Fatimas. If there's Wels up there, we'll just bring them back out and make sure no one else can get in here anymore." And with that, she sprinted up ahead before anyone could grasp an arm or shoulder and hold her back.

"She's too much like Bart," Billy sighed, racing forward to catch up with the Nisan Mother, leaving Fei and Elly to shake their heads and dash forward to keep up.

The last thing Bart expected to see in the mausoleum was the sight of his kid cousin dashing up the corridor, determination on her doll-like features. Having just climbed out of Brigandier, he sighed and coiled the whips between his hands before returning them to the hook against his hip. She blinked in a startled manner as she realized who was standing there. Billy quickly came up behind her, followed then by Fei and Elly as they all gaped at him in unison.

"Bart? What the hell are you doing here?" Fei asked incredulously. There was a collective sigh of relief from all four of them, but a certain tension remained.

"I came here for a purpose, guys. What are -you- doing here?"

Margie spoke up before anyone else could, wagging a finger at her cousin as she glared up at him angrily, "Are you the reason why everything is shaking upstairs Bartolomei Fatima? You've scared all the Sisters half to death, not to mention the rest of us. What purpose could bring you down here alone anyway? I think I at least have a right to know since since since... I'm family and we're getting married next month."

That left everyone speechless. Margie hadn't mentioned the betrothal to anyone and Sister Agnes has kept largely silent about it. Fei and Elly exchanged glances with one another while Billy just stared at Bart for a long moment before looking away rather sharply. Realizing suddenly that she had given away her little secret, she blushed a bit, fingers pressing against her lips. "Um, well..." she sighed and hung her head finally, "Let's just all go back up, ok? And... Bart, next time come see us before you decide to invade the mausoleum."

Largely silent on the way back up, Bart kept looking over his shoulder. If Margie and the rest had not shown up, he'd have spent the time searching around his father's tomb. There was a part of him who wanted to blurt out the real reasons why he was here, yet the more paranoid part of his mind only convinced him they would all think he was going insane. Edbart IV was dead, they were all present at the funeral. The corpse left behind was mummified, sinew and bone remaining of the former King and nothing more. Still, that desperate sound he heard in the early morning hours left him with a need to find out the truth. Just to open that tomb and see that his father was truly dead and that he was either hearing things or that really was a practical joke being played on him.

"Bart, are you sure you're all right?" Elly asked with a solicitous air to her voice. Leaving Fei's side for a moment, she touched the king's arm gently, trying to get him to look at her. Something about her so easily disarmed Bart, and he sighed as he regarded her, just about to open up and tell the whole story when Billy interrupted.

"I wouldn't worry about him, Elly. Bart doesn't really explain or apologize for anything anyway. Don't make him stick his foot in his mouth again."

Bart frowned, regarding the former Etone with a fixated glare, "The hell is your problem, Billy?" This seemed to be a never ending conflict, the gunman always on the case of the prince now turned king.

"You are," came the oh so witty reply, Billy glaring right back. He looked as if he were about to say something more, only to be silenced by Margie shaking her head at him.

"You two can fight later. Come on, there's still plenty of work to be done today and since Bart decided to grace us with his presence, he can help." To this she nodded sagely, the decision made regardless of any protests to the contrary. Billy's gaze softened considerably as he looked at her, nodding in agreement, though after that he refused to glance in Bart's direction as all five of them headed back up the stairs and to the Cathedral.

For the rest of the day Bart found himself mired in all kinds of tasks, just as Margie promised. It was a nice distraction, however, and whether he was helping out with the infirmary, or talking to Citan about what was going on in Aveh currently, he found his mood changing to something far more contented. Anything away from his duties in Aveh relaxed him, it seemed. There was the nagging reminder that Sigurd was going to kill him, but he ignored it. He'd jump that cliff when he got to it. Avoiding Billy was easy, the former Etone apparently wanted as little to do with him as vice versa, so their paths didn't cross.

Eventually, Elly found him on his way back to the cathedral, flagging him down as she raced along the cobblestones, waving her arm back and forth, "Bart! Wait up!" Slowing as she finally caught up, she took a moment to catch her breath before going on, "Been looking for you. Dinner's up at the main house. Come on."

"Billy gonna be there?"

Elly frowned, "I assume so... what is it between you two, anyway? Every time you're together, one of you snaps on the other."

"Billy is a stuck up brat as far as I'm concerned. Got too much of that superiority crap fed to him," Bart replied with venom in his voice. It didn't last, the ire drained out of him almost immediately after the words left his mouth. "Honestly, I don't know, Elly. I can't figure him out. Sometimes he's nice to me, sometimes he just gets on my case out of the blue."

Silent, Elly regarded the king for a long moment, her expression thoughtful before she finally just shrugged and patted Bart's shoulder, "Well, we'll worry about it later. I'll talk to him or something, ok? Let's eat though, I'm starving."

Dinner was a noisy affair. Everyone gathered around a huge table that not only included the Nisan Mother and her friends, but many of the others who toiled alongside them to heal those still suffering and provide shelter to those refugees displaced from their homes thanks to Deus and Solaris. Bart relaxed as he laughed alongside the others, ignoring the glares Billy shot at him on occasion when he got too loud or teased Margie about something that made her blush. In fact, the more he observed the former Etone's behavior, the more he started picking on Margie, just testing the waters. It brought him to some startling conclusions. Enough to make him pull Billy aside as dinner began to wind down.

"We need to talk, I'm tired of fighting."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Is this because of Margie? Are you mad we've been betrothed?"

"Bart, you cosmically stupid tart... Excuse me, I have things to do."

With that, Billy jerked his arm free from Bart's grip and stalked away, out the door. Left in his wake, Bart tugged at the braid pulled over his shoulder with an irritated jerk. Having witnessed the distressing exchange, Elly appeared at the king's side and sighed, shaking her head, "I'll go talk to him, Bart. I'll get to the bottom of this, promise." And before he could really even reply to her, she'd trotted on out the door, chasing after Billy. Bart could only stand there afterwards, tugging the braid one more time before turning toward the back exit, to find somewhere else to sit and think about this.

"Why in the world did he come out here?" Sigurd inquired rhetorically, mostly to himself. Standing at the helm of the Yggridsil, hands on his hips, he sighed at the vidscreen as Nisan came into view. The message from Margie had come in earlier that day, and Sigurd and Maison both traveled out here to fetch their wayward King and drag him home again. After a number of lectures about responsibility, first.

"I wouldn't know, Master Sigurd. He's always been unpredictable," Maison replied with a touch of a resigned sigh escaping his lips.

The Yggridsil set down on the outskirts of the city, Sigurd and Maison disembarking. The town itself was bustling, busy as ever. Since Deus' defeat, there were plenty of people left without homes and most of them fled here, as it had become the spiritual capital of the world. The populations skyrocketed within months and already there was the racket of new homes being built, expanding the city limits past the original borders. Sigurd knew exactly where to go and by passed many of the houses to head toward the huge cathedral that dominated the city in its center. The sun had begun its descent, to sleep beneath the arch of the world, leaving everything draped in a mauve and lavender hue, reflecting brightly off the stained glass windows of the cathedral to produce a colored shadows on the carpeted floor. Sister Agnes stood fretfully before the altar, wringing her hands and alternately muttering worried noises to herself. Upon seeing Sigurd, she whirled around, rushing toward him and the old knight at his side.

"Oh Master Sigurd, thank goodness you've arrived. They're all down below. Please please go and keep an eye on Mother Margie. I begged her to stay but--"

"Shhh, Sister Agnes, now calm down," Sigurd said, trying to soothe the old woman's worries. Her emotions were jumbled, though fear and apprehension were the large majority of what he sensed. "Now, who is down below and what is going on?"

"It's His Majesty. He disappeared into the tombs again. Everyone went to go find him and Mother Margie refused to stay behind. I begged her, but..."

Sigurd hushed her again, making her calm for a second so she could continue at a pace he could comprehend. "Now, why did His Majesty go down into the tombs?"

"I don't know. But he was feverish when he did so, refusing to listen to me or the Sisters. He kept babbling about his father. Oh, Master Sigurd we were nearly afraid he's gone mad."

Sigurd and Maison exchanged looks. Bart going into the tombs, babbling about his father? Something was very wrong, and apparently it was not just the king being a brat and running away this time.

"Maison, please stay here in case anyone comes back up here. I'm going in," Sigurd said, pulling out a weapon he had not used in years, the optical whip made for him by Citan. And with his empathy stretching out to locate his brother's emotions, he wasted no more time, nearly running down the stairs to get into the mausoleum.


	4. As the Ashes Die

**Part 4: As the Ashes Die**

The floors echoed hollowly beneath Bart's boots as he raced down the mausoleum corridors blindly. He had no idea where he was going, merely choosing his path by instinct. Behind him came the sounds of shouting. Fei, Elly, Margie and Billy all calling his name, searching desperately through the tomb laden hallways for the wayward prince under some mysterious influence. But, they wouldn't understand. They couldn't hear the voice, couldn't feel that pleading. Bootheels scuffed along the floor as he brought himself to a sudden halt, turned and raced down the next chosen corridor. This place was far larger than he ever imagined, even though he and Margie used to explore it during their childhood days. Did they ever go this far? He couldn't remember, now.

Margie was nearly frantic, holding onto Billy's hand so tightly he had to eventually jerk it free. That and she was practically dragging him along behind her. They split off from Fei and Elly initially, each heading a different direction in hopes that two groups might locate Bart faster than one. Though the former Etone held a pistol at the ready, nothing leapt out to attack them. That faint stench that warned him of death, however, and kept his hackles up, vigilant while Margie merely surged forward, taking heed of nothing. One of them, at least, had to be alert. He couldn't help but at least feel a touch of guilt for the situation. If he hadn't refused to speak to Bart, perhaps someone would have noticed his odd behavior sooner and somehow stopped him. If he hadn't continued to deny his own sins, then perhaps this would not have come down to a game of cat and mouse.

But, what ifs weren't going to keep up with Margie. She had already gotten half a length of hallway ahead of him and Billy quickened his pace to catch up to her again, shoving his thoughts aside to concentrate on the moment. Echoing her, he called out Bart's name to the left, as she did so to the right. A futile gesture, but shouting at least relieved some of the tension and it seemed the right thing to do.

Sigurd appeared out of nowhere, nearly colliding with Margie at the next intersection of corridors. She squeaked aloud, flailing her arms to keep her balance only for a dark hand to reach out and grasp her shoulder to steady her. "Margie... Billy. Get out of here, I know where Bart is." He gave them no time for argument, handing the Nisan Mother over to Billy before starting down the corridor again, long legs moving with a stride that would be difficult to keep up with. Margie frowned as Billy tried to draw her away, back the way they came and she pushed away from him, determined to disobey her cousin and followed anyway, going by the sound of his footfalls when it was clear he'd gotten too far ahead of them.

Billy followed without trying to stop her. Not because he wanted to disobey Sigurd, but because he too was curious. He wanted to know what demon possessed Bart to carry on like this. No, that wasn't really it. Billy just wanted to know that Bart was going to be all right, that cold pit inside of his stomach would not go away until he could absolve himself of his guilt, whether it was warranted or not. So he followed right along behind the two Fatimas, one of the unlucky ones to view the sight that awaited them.

It was at Edbart IV's tomb that they finally halted, all the way at the end of the Mausoleum. Each new King meant another second of earth was dug out for a new tomb. The beginnings of one had been begun for Bart, now that he had assumed the throne. Billy only prayed they would not need to make use of it already. The door to the tomb itself was open, but not smashed in as if Bart had knocked it down, it was exploded outward, as if something had broken it from within. He barely caught a flash of silver hair and white tassels disappearing through the door as he and Margie came upon it. Fearless as always, the Nisan Mother wasted no time or breath in following her older cousin inside and Billy wasn't about to let her go in alone.

Inside, the stench of death was so thick Billy had to lift a hand to his nose. Margie was overcome by it nearly immediately, turning a definite shade of green. Sigurd seemed to take it in stride, angrily gesturing for Margie to get back, glaring at Billy for not following orders and getting her out of the Mausoleum. The strange whip in his hand glowed faintly, illuminating the darkness just barely. "Bart?" he called, but only once Billy had grabbed Margie's arm and taken her to the doorway. "I know you're here. I can feel you, brother."

"Can't you hear him, Sigurd?" came the raspy, quiet reply.

"Hear who, Bart. Talk to me, where are you? I'm getting you out of here."

Light filled the room then as dormant torches came to life of their own accord, and Margie screamed despite herself. The entire room was a massive pit of molded mud, the walls caked with it and the ceiling dripped it down toward the floor like congealed condensation. Pressing himself into the doorway entirely, the former Etone blocked Margie out of the room, looking above his head in a paranoid fashion to make sure none of the ooze was coming down toward him. Sigurd made a face, but his eye scanned the room for one thing in particular, his brother, trying hard to ignore what else he noticed.

Covered from nearly head to toe in the disgusting slime, Bart sat next to the crypt that stored his father's corpse. Chest heaving with all the running and his vain efforts to get the lid off the crypt, he could only sit there and stare out at nothing in particular. Even as Sigurd quietly called his name and slowly approached the king, he could only sit there, too exhausted to fight being lifted off the ground and hefted into the tall man's arms, though his body shuddered at the empathic touch that linked him to his brother. It was the only thing that saved from from the swirling insanities being whispered to him, claiming to be his father, threatening to suck him down into darkness.

"Shhh, Bartolomei. I'm here, and nothing is going to hurt you so long as I live," Sigurd said quietly, backing out of the room as he kept an eye out above and all around. Whatever wanted his brother to come here would surely make its presence known if he tried to remove the youth from the room. Billy kept his pistol brandished as Sigurd continued the slow progression to the door, stepping aside at the last moment to let both brothers out.

A voice wailed abjectly as the torches simultaneously extinguished, hissing and sending an acrid scent of smoke through the broken door. Sigurd's eye widened, lips parting as his jaw dropped slightly. He felt it, beyond the strange emotions that he garnered from Bart, he felt that call, that pleading need, begging him to release Bart and let him back into the room. Determination furrowed silver brows together. It would be a cold day in hell before Yggridsil's first mate let his only brother go back into a mire pit like that. "Come on, let's go. We'll come back later to see what to do about cleaning this up." It was his father's final resting place, after all, and seeing it so defiled made his blood boil.

"How is he?" Sigurd was the first to ask a question that occupied everyone's minds as Citan exited the bedroom where Bart had been taken to be cleaned up. Adjusting his glasses, the good doctor smiled in a manner that suggested all was right with the world, even if that wasn't quite the case.

"He's exhausted, but appears to be physically fine otherwise. I have no idea what may be affecting his mind, however, and we won't know that until he wakes up."

Tension alleviated slightly, everyone in the room shifted a bit. The entire group had assembled, just waiting to find out how Bart faired. Sigurd, playing spokesperson for the moment, nodded at the response. Not entirely satisfactory, but far better than what the situation could have been. "Thank you, Hyu. Maison and I will be transporting him back to Aveh in the morning. I would prefer to keep him as far from the Mausoleum as possible." He also intended to spend the night at his brother's bedside, just to make sure nothing attempted to call for the king in the middle of the night. Turning toward the group, he gestured for them to go, "Let's get some rest everyone, excitement is over I think."

Though Margie, Fei and Elly left with murmurs of agreement, probably to talk amongst themselves outside, Billy lingered behind, approaching Sigurd as the taller man spoke quietly with Citan. Clearing his throat to get both their attention, he said, "I'd like to go back with you to Aveh."

Sigurd paused to hear this, a silver brow lifting at the request. "If you wish to, Billy. You are always welcome. But, is there any reason for it?"

The swirl of emotions inside of the former Etone gave him away without his knowledge, "Not really... I just.. we had a bit of an argument before all of this happened and--"

Sigurd interrupted with a chuckle, reaching over to ruffle the youth's hair even as Billy tried to duck out from under his hand. "I understand. I'm sure Bart doesn't blame you for anything, but you're still free to accompany us back to Aveh if you wish it."

"Thank you," Billy said with a touch of an embarrassed smile and without further ado, he departed the room to pack some of his belongings and get some sleep before the trip to Aveh in the morning. In his wake, however, Sigurd rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking back at Citan again, who was similarly perplexed.

"There is something going on there, Hyu. And I'm not quite sure if it's a good thing or not."

"Sigurd, just let it run its course," the doctor chuckled softly, patting his friend's shoulder. "After all, you and I had our moments at their age."

"Indeed."


	5. Shadows and Light

Standard Disclaimer 

Standard Disclaimer: I keep forgetting to put these in here. Xenogears characters and settings belong to Squaresoft. Of course.

**Part 5: Shadows and Light**

The next morning, Bart had not yet awoken when he was gathered up and moved onto the Yggridsil, placed in the bed of his old room while Sigurd prepared the ship to return to Aveh. Billy, with his things gathered, bid farewell to Margie, promising to return to Nisan soon to help her with such a demanding position. Since his faith in the Ethos had been shattered, she and his own father had aided him in figuring out his beliefs and feelings, finding in the end that even of the Ethos had used religion to control the masses, it didn't mean that God didn't exist somewhere out there. It took a lot of thought, introspection and redesigning of his beliefs, but in the end he felt he'd kept his faith, exchanging the dogma taught to him for something far more forgiving. Oh he was a long way from finding stability, Bishop Stone killed a large part of his innocence with his cruel words and horrible truths, but he was healing. It was something as opposed to nothing.

While the crew prepared for lift off, Billy placed his things in the common room and headed for the library. As he hoped, Maison was standing behind the counter, occupying himself with a book and a cup of tea. Looking up, he adjusted his spectacles and smiled. "Good morning, Master Billy. How are you?"

"A little tired, Maison. Everyone was up awful early," Billy replied, sitting opposite the old knight and peering at the cover of the book. "What's that?"

"Oh nothing," was said as the book was set aside, under the counter. Though it made the former Etone wonder, he didn't question it. He'd just wait till later, and look at it when Maison got up for something.

"I hear the Young Master is still sleeping. It's very odd what's occurring to him. I do hope this is the last of such nastiness," the old knight continued on, offering a cup of tea to Billy with a gesture.

"Maybe he just needs the rest. Citan said he was exhausted," Billy replied, accepted the cup of tea pushed his way and sipping it cautiously to check for heat. Finding it the right temperature, he took a longer drink of it. Maison nodded, then checked the teapot with a frown.

"Hmm, it appears I need to brew some more tea. If you'll excuse me, Master Billy. I'll return shortly."

Billy merely nodded, looking over his shoulder as the old knight departed with the now empty teapot. As soon as he cleared the exit, the door hissing shut again, he crept around the counter and picked up the book to get a look at it. The cover was a soft pink color, a paperback of some sort, and the spine was creased repeatedly, suggested the book had been read many times before. Cracking it open, he couldn't help but chuckle. Maison, it seemed, liked romance novels.

"Don't let Maison catch you looking at that. He'll turn three shades of pink."

Billy looked up sharply, startled by the voice, and nearly dropped the book in the process. Bart had just cleared the spiral staircase, pausing at the top of it to catch his breath. "Whew. Been asleep all this time and I get winded just climbing the stairs? Shit."

"You should be resting, Bart," Billy admonished, replacing the book where he'd found it. "And Kings don't cuss like pirates, or had you forgotten?"

Bart frowned, "Why the hell did you come along, Billy, if all you're going to do is stand there and insult me? God, here I was thinking maybe you had a change of heart or something and was... gee, concerned. I get that shit from Sigurd and Maison, if I wanted it from another source, I'd have called on you earlier."

To Bart's surprise, the former Etone lowered his eyes, clearing his throat before apologizing, "Sorry... I guess I just... Well, you should be resting, I'm not wrong about that."

"Fuck that," Bart replied, heading over to sit in front of the counter, since Billy was still standing on the other side. "I've had enough sleep. You wanna be like Sigurd and drag me back and tie me down?" It was a joke, but to his surprise, Billy actually blushed. "Uh... Sorry, there goes my mouth again." Grabbing the cup that had actually been Billy's originally, he took a drink of it without even bothering to ask. The Etone didn't even bother protesting it. Bart was Bart and there wasn't going to be any civilizing him, no matter how much his brother and the old knight tried to.

"That's always been your biggest problem, your mouth," Billy retorted, leaning against the counter as the king claimed the cup that had originally been his.

"Yeah, and your prissiness and holier than thou attitude has always been yours. Shit, Billy, if you're in love with my betrothed, just say so. If that's the reason why you're being an ass to me."

Without even thinking about it, Billy glared at Bart and replied, "I'm in love with you. That's why I'm being such an ass to you."

The cup has just been lifted to Bart's lips again, starting to take a drink when those words came tumbling out of Billy's mouth. It took him just a second for an understanding to register and then he nearly choked on the tea, lowering the cup as he sputtered out half of what he had in his mouth and started coughing and choking on the rest. Being close enough to this, Billy received an unexpected shower.

Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, all Bart could do was stare, that one blue eye wide. Billy didn't just say that. He couldn't have. "This must be some kind of joke, right? Ha ha, Billy. Fuck." The cup was put down and he reached for one of the paper napkins off to the side, tossing a couple to Billy while he wiped up the spilled tea left on the counter. Maison would pitch a fit if they left a mess behind.

Taking the napkins and wiping away the spritz of tea that Bart so graciously left on him, Billy just sighed, "Yeah, Bart a joke. Just a big fat joke."

That just left the two to stare at one another in awkward silence. Billy could have kicked himself in that moment, if he could have taken that one foolish moment back. Part of him wanted to admit this to Bart a long time ago, but it took being goaded into it to finally come clean about his feelings and now, the way that the other teen looked at him, he had the feeling he was about to be rejected, hard.

The door opened then, saving either teen from confronting the issue just yet. Sigurd wandered in, glancing about before locking his gaze on Bart and frowning slightly. "There you are, they told me you'd woken up finally. Are you sure you should be out of bed?"

Bart groaned but got up from his seat, "Fine, fine, I'll go lounge around in bed and be bored to death if it'll get all you mother hens to fucking leave me alone."

Sigurd waited until his brother attempted to brush past and then grabbed for his arm, looking at him pointedly, "Bart, you scared us all last night. We only want to make sure you're all right. But, you surely are, if you're back to your surly self."

There was the initial urge to retort with another sarcastic comment, but the look on his brother's face, coupled with the slight tingling of worry he felt flowing from the taller man gave him pause and his features sobered significantly. "Yeah, Sig. I'm all right. Little tired still, but I'm all right. Ok?"

Letting go of his arm, Sigurd nodded, finally satisfied. "Good. Just... take it easy, all right?"

"Sure thing, I always take it easy." Back came that infectious grin and he saluted his brother with two fingers off his forehead before continuing out the door. Billy he didn't even glance at on the way out.

Sigurd shook his head as soon as the door closed again. Turning, he was about to comment to Billy when he noticed the sickened look on the youth's face. "Billy, are you all right? Did Bart say something?"

Billy could only shake his head, sitting down again shakily. To him, it felt as if his entire world were now falling apart at the seams. He always knew there was a possibility of being rejected, but now that it stared him in the face, the reality was that much scarier. Sigurd, sensing this from the former Etone, approached only to rest a reassuring hand against his shoulder. "Tell me about it, Billy. You know I would never repeat it to anyone."

Looking up, Billy saw nothing but total acceptance and understanding from the silver haired man standing next to him. All sense of reluctance drained out of him and for the first time, he found himself completely able to pour his heart out to someone else.

The Yggridsil returned to Aveh sometime near nightfall. Billy gathered his things and looked around to see if he could spot Bart amongst those disembarking. After his conversation with Sigurd, he felt a lot better, but that lump in his throat just wouldn't go away, no matter how much he swallowed. It wouldn't until he confronted the King of Aveh, Sigurd even said as much and offered to speak with Bart. Billy quickly turned the offer down. He had to do this on his own. And if Bart decided he wanted nothing more to do with the former Etone, there wasn't much he could do about it nor was Sigurd going to convince him otherwise.

Seeing that golden head of hair in the distance, he held back and merely watched as Bart spoke briefly with Maison and Sigurd and then departed back into the palace. He sighed and then pushed away from the wall, brushing past Sigurd on his own way out. Part of him regretted coming to Aveh now. There were few here that new knew and he couldn't hang on Sigurd all the time for companionship. He had the sinking feeling his time in Aveh was likely to be miserable.

"Hey, Billy," Sigurd called, reaching out to grasp the youth's shoulder and stop him for a moment and give him a reassuring smile. "Tomorrow, join us for breakfast."

"Thank you," Billy said, feeling both relaxed and nervous at the same time. That Sigurd understood and even encouraged him felt good. But, breakfast tomorrow would be awkward, if Bart were still apt to ignore his presence.

"If you would follow me, Master Billy, I will show you to a guest room," the old knight then offered, and even if Billy were going to protest it, began to disembark, expecting the youth to follow him. He was lead up to the third floor, a set of lavishly decorated rooms that made the former Etone boggle. He'd never stayed in anything quite so posh before.

"Here? But, Maison..."

"No buts, Master Billy. You are a guest of the King. Of course your accommodations will reflect such. The royal suite is in the opposite tower, if you should wish to pay a visit to His Majesty." And before any further protests could be lodged, the old knight closed the double doors behind him, leaving Billy to stand there in the vastness of those huge, almost gawdy rooms.

Sighing, he sat on the edge of the huge four poster bed, dropping his pack to the soft carpeting below. Sure, he'd go and visit Bart. If only he weren't sure he'd be tossed out immediately. "Well Billy, looks like it's your mouth that got you into trouble this time."

There was no sleeping for Billy that night. Each time he laid down, the bed felt awkward. He'd gotten used to his bed back in Nisan, which was not quite as soft as this one. That and every time he closed his eyes he saw that look Bart gave him after he admitted his feelings to him. Eventually, he just got up and threw on a shirt as well as a pair of sweats and after making sure no one else was about, padded out of his rooms to find the balconied corridors outside. There were guards stationed here and there, but the majority of them looked sleepy to be up this late and he spotted more than one having dozed off at his post. Though it made him chuckle, he didn't bother waking any of them. It was far easier to walk past with more of a feeling of privacy.

Above shone a gibbous moon, pregnant with lunar beauty, shedding a pale glow across the gardens below and making the waters of the fountain and surrounding ponds shine like liquid silver. Billy felt a lull coming over him as he leaned over the banister, resting his chin in the palm of one hand. This was the sort of thing he could get used to, the beauty of the desert palace. At first he had found it hot and sticky and barbaric compared to the pristine cleanliness and sterile anti-diversity of the Ethos headquarters. In time, its mysterious beauty, and the infectious charm of its future King, captivated him. Billy fell in love with Aveh almost as quickly as he fell in love with Bart.

So peaceful was it, that he nearly fell asleep right there, nodding off so that his chin slide right out of his palm, waking him up rather suddenly. He blinked, shook his head and glanced around in time to see a shadow racing across the corridor opposite where he stood. A guard? He wasn't sure, as the figure wasn't walking, it was running. Whoever it was had long hair, as it streamed behind the so for unidentified individual. Pushing away from the railing, Billy moved to intercept the figure as the shadow turned and began racing closer. He could hear the sound of heavy breathing, the pound of bare feet against the stone floor, but it wasn't until a sliver of moonlight shone against sungold hair that he realized who it was.

"Bart?" he called, but the figure paused and stared at him in the moonlit darkness as if he were unable to recognize the other teen. "Bart... where are you going?"

"My father is calling me. I have to go to him."

"Shit," Billy cursed for the first time he could remember. Positioning himself in the center of the walkway, he held his arms out to catch the king if he tried to slip past him. "Bart, your father is dead. We buried him... you can't go to him."

"Can't you hear him? I have to go to him," came the desperate reply and then he did try to break past Billy on the right. The former Etone grabbed the taller youth's arm and refused to let go, digging his heels in against the stone and swinging at the same time to break Bart's momentum and hopefully knock him off balance. The ploy worked and Bart swung around, knocked up against the railing, expelling air in the process. Billy winced, not having meant to hurt Bart, but it did seem to work. The king didn't try to move again, sinking to the floor of the walkway.

"Does Sigurd know you're out here?" No reply to that, which answered his question anyway. Sighing, he crouched down in front of Bart, touching his hair with a shakey hand. He'd longed to run his fingers through that sungold hair, feel it trickle past his palm like rain. But this was another situation altogether, and he didn't have the right to take advantage of the other while in this discombobulated state. "Come on, let's get you back to your room."

Looping Bart's arm over his shoulders, he helped him back to his feet and walked him back to the huge rooms of the royal apartments. Bart merely sank back into his bed, asleep probably before his head even hit the pillow. Billy sat on the edge of the bed, watching over the king with a solicitous gaze. Sigurd would need to be informed in the morning, for what Billy observed thus far convinced him that these summonings only occurred in the dead of the night. From now on, it would be wise to leave a guardian with him to make sure he couldn't run off again. Of course, there was the concern of who or what actually caused them in the first place, but at least this would be a temporary fix to the problem. For this night, he volunteered himself, grabbing one of the huge plush chairs from near the fire place and setting it next to the king's bed. He fully intended to stay awake and keep watch over Bart till morning.

But, even with the best of intentions, he fell asleep an hour later.

(To be continued...)


	6. World Coming Down

Standard Disclaimer: Xenogears characters and settings belong to Squaresoft. 

**Part 6: World Coming Down **

When Bart awoke, he felt groggy, far more exhausted than he should have been. There were vague recollections woven around dreams, had he been sleep walking? Lifting his head, he spotted the unconscious form of Billy sitting in one of the chairs from the fireplace, his chin dipped down to his chest, light colored hair reflecting the sunlight that streamed in from the balcony. When did Billy get here? Propping himself onto an elbow, Bart struggled to remember what happened the night previous, only recalling brief sensations of running along the balcony. Yes, he must have run into the former Etone and that was how he came to sit there, probably watching over him for the rest of the night.

He didn't have the heart to wake him either, still feeling a little guilty for having avoided him the day previous. Having Billy just up and admit his feelings out of the blue like that caught him off guard. Bart just needed the time to think about it, or so he convinced himself. In reality, he didn't know how to feel about any of it. He'd never really considered a relationship with another man before, though he'd never denied an attraction to the sleeping Etone. Billy was beautiful, no sense in denying it, but...

A knock resounded off the entrance to the bedroom, derailing Bart's train of thought. He scrambled off the end of the bed, wanting to get to the doors before it woke Billy up. Too late, however, as the former Etone's head lifted rather suddenly, blinking wide eyes as he realized he'd fallen asleep despite himself. He stared as Bart nearly fell off the bed in his fervor to get to the doors, starting to rise from the chair just to make sure he was ok, and then couldn't help but start laughing as the king cursed aloud and had to untangle himself from the bedsheets.

"Let me get it, Bart... you're occupied."

There was a pause and as Billy stepped toward the door, he looked around to the front of the bed and found Bart glaring at him before kicking off the sheets and getting back to his feet. Still, chuckling, it was that mirth that greeted Sigurd as the doors were opened. The silver haired man stood there for a moment, looking between both boys with an eyebrow raised.

"Good morning Billy, Bartolomei," he began, pausing a moment to read the tension in the room despite the overt humor, "I... was coming to get Bart and bring him down to breakfast. Care to join us, Billy?"

"I'd love to, Siggy, let me get dressed, though. I need to get to my things in the other room and then I'll be down," Billy replied but before departing, he paused and leaned in toward the taller man to murmur, "We need to talk later."

Sigurd gave him a thoughtful look, jumping to conclusions, and then nodded, "Later then. See you downstairs, Billy."

"There is nothing going on between us, so don't even think of starting," Bart immediately leapt to the defensive the second Billy was out the doors and Sigurd had shut them again.

Turning, Sigurd frowned and shook his head, "I see. I won't ask why he was in your rooms then. Are you feeling better today? Someone said you were outside last night."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bart shrugged his shoulders, "I have no idea why he was in here, so go ahead and ask away. I woke up and he was asleep in that chair by my -- I was outside last night?"

"You don't remember?" Sigurd's brows furrowed together, the eyepatch shifting slightly with the motion, "Perhaps it was Billy who found you then and brought you back here." It would explain why the youth wanted to speak to him, at least. "Get dressed, Young Ma-- ahem, Bart. I think I can trust you to meet us downstairs, can't I?"

Bart just grinned, "Have I ever skipped out on a meal before, Sig?"

Billy didn't expect anyone to knock on the door to his rooms, but in opening them, he was relieved to see it was only Sigurd. Part of him hoped and dreaded the idea of it being Bart standing there. Stepping back, he allowed the taller man inside, going back to getting dressed. The most he really had left to do was comb out his hair, and that never took him very long.

"What happened to Bart last night?" Sigurd got straight to the point. "I heard rumors that he was outside."

Billy sighed, setting the comb aside for the moment, "I found him racing along the balcony corridors outside, he was babbling about needing to go to his father again, Sigurd. Have you noticed that these things never happen to him until after dark? At the cathedral, it wasn't until the sun was setting that he began to run."

"No, I hadn't. It does shed some light on the situation, however. He first left in the dead of the night, also," Sigurd replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what to think of this, Billy. I'm having the tomb cleansed soon, hopefully then we'll get to the bottom of this."

"Do you think it might really be his father's ghost calling to him?"

Sigurd shrugged, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of Bart's rooms, "If so, he doesn't call to me. If not... well, hopefully we'll find out soon. No sense in worrying over it for now, however. You ready?"

Bart nodded enthusiastically, finding that his stomach was more than ready for breakfast and getting vocal about it by rumbling. Sigurd lead the way out the doors and down to the kitchens. Bart preferred not to eat in the huge dining hall, so all of them sat at a small table in the back, staying out of the way of the cooking staff. They all regarded the new king a bit oddly when this habit began, but by now it had become customary. Maison had already arrived and apparently consumed two cups of tea while waiting. It didn't surprise anyone that Bart hadn't gotten there yet, though he finally wandered in a few minutes later. To Billy's relief, nothing seemed changed. The usual round of laughter and goading and teasing continued despite the fact that Bart was now fully aware of his feelings.

"Hey Sig, can I have the day off to show Billy around? Last time he was here, we were taking the place back," Bart eventually asked, actually sounding half serious about it. Well, being a King was a job, in a way. It was just the sort of thing he couldn't shed at the end of the day, a king was always a king. A bit surprised by the request, Billy then looked toward the silver haired man hopefully. Bart wanted to show him around? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but even if Bart didn't want anything more than friendship, he'd be grateful for just that.

"There's nothing to attend to today, that I know of. I don't see why not," Sigurd replied, hushing Maison with just a brief look. The old knight didn't really approve, but kept silent anyway. With all the problems plaguing the young king lately, perhaps a 'day off' would do him some good.

"Great!" Bart chirped and leapt up from his seat, tagging Billy's shoulder in the process, "Come on, let's go."

"Stay out of trouble, Bart!" Sigurd called after the pair, sighing quietly as Bart replied some incoherant reassurance in the distance. Looking back at Maison, he asked, "You're certain he'll eventually calm down, right?"

The old knight merely chuckled and sipped at his tea without responding.

The day was spent exploring every nook and cranny of the palace. Bart didn't bother with showing Billy the decor or the renovations underway, or give him boring lectures on how this, that, or the other had been in the family for generations. No, he took him into the little secret corridors and showed him what lead to where. Billy felt like a few years younger almost, something he rarely allowed himself. Having been the grown up figure to so many children at the orphanage, he had to be the adult, so being with Bart opened up parts of himself that he thought were long gone. Together they laughed and and raced around and even spied on some of the servants and other nobles behind some of the secret passages they wandered through like two kids playing games.

Sadly, it only made Billy love Bart all the more. The topic was never broached, Bart too busy dragging him around and Billy far too happy to be dragged around to want to corner him about it. Eventually they emerged from their secret places, covered in dust and grinning like a couple of brash fools.

"I knew you could relax, if you'd just let yourself," Bart commented, clapping the former Etone on the back.

"Now if you'd just start being a little less impetuous we'd really be getting somewhere," Billy retorted with a mockingly stern look.

After a derisive snort, Bart reached around Billy to grab him in a wrestling hold and noogie his head, "Yeah, yeah. Shall I start calling you Sigurd II?"

Despite the fact that Billy struggled against the hold and tried ducking his head down to avoid Bart's knuckles, he couldn't help but enjoy being as close to the king as he was. But, before he could comment further, Bart let go of him again and started down the corridor, "I'm starving, lets go get something to eat." They'd been wandering all over the place for most of the day, after all, totally missing lunch.

"Hey Bart..." Billy began as he caught up with the king again. He was actually going to bring up his confession to him, but when Bart turned his gaze toward the younger teen, he felt it catch in his throat. His mind raced to come up with a new topic instead. "What happens to you when you hear that voice calling?" Still a serious topic, but at least this one was a bit safer.. or so he thought. Bart stopped walking, freezing in place.

"Billy, I really don't know. It scares me, but I don't think there's a damned thing I can do about it."

"If you want... I could stay with you at night, make sure you don't go wandering." As soon as the offer was past his lips, Billy regretted it and wished he could take it back. Hanging around Bart must be influencing him too much, or so he thought, if he was giving in to his urges to be blunt this easily. But, Bart was like the sun, and Billy couldn't help but feel like one of the planets revolving around him.

"Actually, I'd appreciate that," came the surprising reply, "Oh don't look at me like that... you're my friend, Billy. Nothing's going to change that." _Not even your feelings for me_. The thought was unspoken, but the king's eyes said as much without needing words.

Billy exhaled softly, relieved, "Great, it's settled then. Now, weren't we gonna get some lunch?"

"Shit, it's nearly dinner now, let's go."

That night, Billy settled into the chair beside Bart's bed again, this time determined to stay awake. Bart asked if he wanted a cot at least, or something more comfortable, but the former Etone refused.

"How can I stay awake to keep an eye on you if I'm laying down?"

Bart was largely silent in the face of this logic and he shrugged, "You don't have to do this, Billy. I mean, I appreciate that you offered and all, and it might help me sleep better but if it means you losing sleep..."

Billy smiled softly and shook his head, "Bart, until we find out what's causing this, someone is going to have to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't wander off. I volunteered, I'm sticking to my word. Now, go to sleep."

With a shrug, Bart rolled over, keeping the covers pulled up to his throat. Billy had already noticed the latticework scars that covered his back, but never commented on them. They seemed a sore point with the king, meaning it was better not to broach the subject. Settling back in the chair, Billy prepared for a long night. He hoped it would prove to be uneventful. Maison had at least provided him a pot of tea and a couple of books by which to occupy himself. Determined to somehow stay awake, he got up every hour or so to wander the balcony and let the cool night air stir his senses. Otherwise, while not reading, he watched Bart as he slept. Sungold hair splayed across the pillow, shining under the dim lighting from the small reading lamp. His breathing was even and he didn't so much as toss or turn once, perhaps sleeping peacefully tonight. It was a good sign. Billy had the urge to crawl in beside him and hold him close, but resisted the idea. Bart conceded to friendship, that would have to do no matter how badly the former Etone ached for something more.

Not long after the midnight hour did it begin. Billy didn't expect to feel anything himself, but when the curtains blew inward, the chill wind made him shiver, leaning over to look over the arm of the chair toward the balcony. The fireplace had mostly burnt out, leaving embers and ashes behind to occasionally crack or pop, just enough left now to give off some heat in the cool of the night. Pale brows furrowed slightly with a sense of foreboding. Something wasn't right, though he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

When Bart stirred restlessly, Billy turned his attention back toward the king, leaning forward in his seat as he watched Bart murmur something incoherent and roll onto his back. Was he going to attempt getting up again? If so, Billy prepared to launch himself onto the bed to hold the other teen down, if he had to. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and goosebumps lined his arms, hands gripping the armrests of the chair tightly in anticipation. Bart's expression changed to something pained, as if he were now having a nightmare.

"Father..." he murmured and that was all Billy needed to hear. Getting up from the chair, he climbed into the bed, scooting over toward the blonde to reach for his face, smoothing gold hair away from his forehead.

"Bart... your father is dead. Whatever is calling to you is not him. I'm here, you're safe."

A furious gust of wind rustled the curtains then, knocking the reading lamp over and even blowing the blankets around on the bed. Billy was certain he was making something very angry, but it only sealed his determination, reaching for one of Bart's hands to clasp it tightly. That one blue eye opened rather suddenly, staring up at Billy as if he didn't recognize him at all.

"Shhh, don't say anything, just go back to sleep, Bart. You're not going anywhere," Billy said, now using his free hand to press against Bart's chest, just in case he had any ideas of getting up. The king blinked at him a couple of times, muscles tensing as if he meant to try leaving anyway, but then he relaxed again, the eye closing. Billy breathed out a sigh of relief, head hanging and his grasp on Bart's hand relaxing as that sense of foreboding seemed to die with the last ember in the fireplace. He had won this round, at least. It surprised him how easily he'd done so, though he was certain whatever force wanted the king so badly as to summon him almost nightly would try something a little stronger now that it knew Bart had a guardian.

"Don't go," Bart whispered just as Billy started to return to his vigil. Pausing, he looked back at the king, finding that one eye open again, half lidded and gazing at him. "I don't want to be alone."

"Are you sure?" Billy asked, heart suddenly hammering in his chest. After that scare, he wasn't sure he could sleep at all, especially not holding onto Bart. But, when the king nodded, he climbed under the covers beside him and drew in close, finding that he was clung to almost immediately, as if he were a life raft for a drowning man. Though he was sure this really wouldn't change anything come morning, Billy smiled and held the king close, smoothing out that golden hair until he was sure Bart had fallen back to sleep. He'd wanted this for so long that he tried to stay awake, just to remember this, imprint it into his heart and mind.

But, yet again, he eventually fell asleep despite himself.

(To be continued...)


	7. All Murder, All Guts, All Fun

Standard Disclaimer: Xenogears characters and settings belong to Squaresoft.

Author's Voice: If you are squeamish, skip the first two sections of this part. If you're not a yaoi fan, skip the last section of this part. If you are a squeamish yaoi hater... why the hell are you reading this? How many warnings do I have to put on a story to keep people who aren't yaoi fans from reading this stuff? It's not like I'm forcing you to click on my story and then gluing your eyelids open so you absolutely have to read it. (Therefore, if you flame me, I will have a good time pointing and laughing at you from my computer chair. Cause if you're sick enough to read things you hate, you're the one who's got issues, man, not me.)

**Part 7: All Murder, All Guts, All Fun**

The mausoleum's hollow silence hardly phased the two sisters as they traversed through the hallways of the hallowed burial grounds of the Fatima Dynasty. Margie skipped along, just ahead of them, a basket full of goodies on her arm for the workers who were clearing out the muck from Edbart's tomb. Sigurd has ordered the work done just before leaving with Bart, and there were plenty of willing refugees located for the project. Most were willing to do whatever was needed to repay the kindness of Nisan's residents. Though it wasn't the most thrilling of jobs, Margie never heard a one of them raise a voice in complaint. The first day had been a bit harrowing, people were a little afraid to go inside. But, after someone brought in lights and took the bull by the horns and got to work, everyone else quickly pitched in, figuring the sooner they cleaned things up, the sooner they'd be able to perform a cleansing and exorcise whatever demons might reside there. Everyone was sure to leave by nightfall and no one arrived to continue till well after daylight. This was Margie's insistence, since everything seemed better during the daytime. Sigurd also told her not to take any risks.

So, this early morning, Margie had been up very early with the Sisters to make a huge breakfast for everyone and bring it to them. Some of the workers were silly enough to head straight into the mausoleum and not sit down to eat first. Those that did would probably enjoy a sugar roll anyway. Besides, any leftovers would be devoured by noontime, of that she was sure. She carried the basket full of the cinnamon and sugar rolls, while the sisters carried the rest, warm foods held in containers meant to hold in the heat as well as paper plates and cups and napkins. It was going to be a grand affair and would surely bring up everyone's spirits.

But, in turning that last corridor toward the tomb, Margie had to pause and stare. The hallway was not full of bustling workers chatting amongst one another while working hard on cleaning up the mess. The basket dropped to the ground, spilling part of its contents, as her hands rose to her face, head shaking in disbelief. The Sisters behind her gasped almost in unison, also dropping their loads as they rushed up to Margie's side to grab her arms and start dragging her backwards.

The stench of death hung with a grim heaviness in the air. Dark red blood pooled along the tile floor, some of it smeared and splattered across the rough hewn walls. Bodies littered the ground like broken dolls, eyes lifelessly staring at nothing, mouths still hanging open with a last scream of terror. In the midst of it all crouched a lone figure, a man dressed in tattered blue robes. Holding onto one of the bodies, his head was practically buried in the chest cavity of the victim, slurping in a disgusting and ill mannered desperation. The head lifted as if he sensed new life having just arrived and Margie screamed.

The bloodied face belonged to Edbart Fatima IV.

Fei and Elly were just heading toward the infirmary when the earthquake struck. Starting with just a tremor, pretty soon everything was swaying precariously, tossed about as if someone picked up the planet, thought it was a snow globe, and gave it a little shake. Grabbing Elly's hand, Fei lead her off to one of the nearest doorways, reaching it just as the quake ended, leaving everything unnaturally still and silent in its wake.

"Figures," Fei muttered, letting Elly go so both could drift back to the roadway as residents slowly filtered out of their homes to look for any damage.

"Is this place earthquake prone?" Elly queried. Margie never mentioned them, and she'd never felt anything like it in all the time she'd spent in Nisan. Her previous memories, from another life, did not recall such occurrences, either.

"I don't think so, but anything is possible," Fei replied with a shrug, "We probably should check on the infirmary, though, make sure Doc is ok."

Elly certainly didn't argue, her pace hurried without running. Citan stood in the doorway, as if he expected them to arrive any moment and already wore that soft, quiet smile, the one that reassured everyone, no matter what the situation.

"Everything is fine. My, that was quite a shake up wasn't it?" he said before either of them could ask a thing.

"No one was hurt?" Elly asked, just to be sure. The doctor shook his head, gesturing for the pair to join him inside so they could see for themselves. Those mutants still under the care of the doctor were mostly in bed, a few of them healed enough to help him with the others. Their mutations were slowly being controlled, and there were precious few left, now. This was good, though Elly prayed daily that they could be healed sooner. She feared that after so long, there might not be a way to cure the most serious of cases. Citan merely assured her that eventually a cure would be discovered and then the last of Krelian and Deus' machinations would be eliminated. Man would be completely and blessedly free.

"Guess it didn't last long enough to do much damage," Fei mused with a shrug of his shoulders, "It's still kinda odd though, Nisan's not known to be earthquake prone."

"Nearly anywhere can have the occasional earthquake, Fei," Citan replied in his logical manner, "Though I must admit, it was a touch unexpected here."

Elly set a hand on one hip, finally convinced that all was right with the world. Turning toward Citan, she lifted a finger as if she were about to ask him something, when the sound of feet pounding against the cobblestones outside garnered everyone's attention. The door swung open almost violently, one of the Sisters from the cathedral standing there, gripping the doorframe in order to catch her breath and not fall to her knee. "Doctor Uzuki..." she gasped, one hand now against her chest, "Please come with us. Sister Arella, she's dying. The Mother... we don't know what's happened."

Without wasting words, Citan grabbed his bag and followed the Sister out the door and back toward the cathedral, Fei and Elly on his heels. Just the mention of Margie possibly being hurt was enough to grant all of them the impetus to move faster. Lead through the grand hallways, up to the second floor. Even Citan was stunned by the sight of the wounded sister. Wrapped in gauze and blankets, it was clear that Arella did not have long to live. Blood foamed at the corners of her lips as she gasped for breath. Her torso had been nearly completely torn open, the whites of her ribs visible, some of which had been cracked. Her skin was so pale it was nearly ashen and it was clear death was imminent. Elly covered her face in her hands, turning away from the sight. She'd seen mutations and wounds and blood and death before, but that didn't make seeing it again any easier. Fei turned in toward her, wrapping an arm around her to pull her in against him, letting her rest her head against his chest to comfort her.

Laying a hand on the woman's forehead, Citan sighed, "Arella, you are living now by sheer willpower and there is nothing I can do for you. Tell your story and then go in peace." His hand glowed soon after that, at least helping to comfort the dying woman in her last moments.

"Below, took the Mother. His majesty," she gasped between small rivulets of blood coughed up to run down her cheeks. "Everyone dead." If she had anything else to say, it would remain unspoken as her eyes slowly closed and she gasped her last breath. Citan lowered his gaze, closing his eyes for a moment as if in reverence for the dead. His hand withdrew, ceasing its healing glow. Those Sisters in the room immediately began last rites though tears clearly shone in their eyes.

"Come," the doctor whispered to Fei and Elly, resting a hand briefly on Fei's shoulder to push him toward the door. Once outside, he made sure the door was shut behind them, letting the Sisters grieve in peace.

"I don't understand, she said His Majesty. Did she mean Bart?" Fei asked as the descended back to the main floor. Elly walked alongside him in a subdued manner, holding his hand loosely. Death never ceased to affect her, no matter how often she saw it.

"I doubt it, he's back in Aveh by now and I'm sure we would have heard from Sigurd if he had left again," Citan replied, adjusting his glasses, "Sigurd mentioned that Bart was babbling about hearing his father that night he ran into the mausoleum. I believe Sister Arella was trying to warn us that it was King Edbart."

"King Edbart?" Elly blurted out, "We all saw his body, he's dead, Citan."

"I doubt it's the real King, Elly. Though I only heard vicariously, Edbart IV was a gentle and peaceful ruler before Shakhan's coup. However, we don't know what was done to him, or to his body, while Shakhan sat on the throne."

"If he has Margie though..." Fei trailed off, not really wanting to finish the sentence.

"Margie may be alive still. She is a Fatima, after all, and if Edbart has been calling for Bart, he may have a use for her. We shouldn't give up hope just yet," Citan said, though the thought did make him pause, thoughtfully looking toward the floor while rubbing his chin. "We shouldn't dally, however. Time is of the essence if we are to rescue her before anything harmful may be done. Come, we'll contact Sigurd and then see what we can do to find her."

Morning sunlight streamed in through the open curtains of the balcony. Sigurd had actually done that earlier, tiptoeing into the room when he realized the pair on the bed were still sound asleep and curled around one another. He figured that the sun would eventually wind around to shine on them and that would finally waken them. Billy was the first to be roused by the warmth he felt against his cheek, blinking drowsily before lifting a hand to shield his face from the intruding light. Bart stirred without waking, murmuring something incoherent. This gave the former Etone time to marvel at the youth lying beside him. Tentatively he touched his face, feeling his heart soar when Bart responded nuzzling into the touch. Oh there was the possibility that he wouldn't want this if he weren't half asleep, but Billy could always hope.

"Surprised you haven't tried to kiss me yet," Bart mumbled, revealing that he really was awake. That one blue eye opened soon afterwards, grinning at Billy as a touch of pink colored his cheeks. He'd been caught, but the king didn't seem to mind. Since that was the case, he didn't stop gliding his fingers over the other's cheek, drifting up his temple to finally run his fingers through that long, sungold hair.

"I thought you were asleep... it wouldn't be right to steal a kiss. I mean, what if you didn't want it?" he finally replied. It only remotely dawned on him that Bart seemed to be returning the affection. He wasn't kicking the former Etone out of his bed and calling him a pervert.

"Besides," he added, as an afterthought, "I've never kissed anyone before."

A golden brow shot up at that admission and Bart propped himself up on one elbow, "Somehow, that doesn't exactly surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Bart replied and then leaned in and kissed him.

Billy's eyes widened in surprise, lying there in a stiff manner initially. Then it suddenly dawned on him that Bart was kissing him, which is what he'd been wanting for quite some time now and he finally relaxed and closed his eyes, yielding to the king who seemed far more experienced with this sort of thing. Bart was fairly sure Billy had little to no experience, and kept it gentle, lips brushing against the former Etone's lazily until he felt him begin to relax. To his surprise, it was Billy who carried things further, pressing in a little closer to deepen the kiss, fingers trailing down his cheek and then his throat to draw a shudder out of Aveh's King.

"If that was your first kiss..." Bart trailed off in a quiet, awed tone of voice as they parted. Billy averted his eyes, cursing himself for the blush he knew heated his cheeks.

"I have a good teacher," he finally replied as Bart just chuckled at him, "What? Oh stop laughing at me. So I'm not an experienced slut like you are."

"Slut?" Bart laughed incredulously, "En guarde, Billy Lee Black!" He reached for one of the huge feather pillows and fully intended to whack the former Etone with it except that Billy saw this one coming and grabbed the other one first, pillows meeting one another with a dull thump. Laughter filled the room from both teens as they repeatedly tried to whack one another, neither getting the upper hand as they scooted back and forth and around on the huge bed. Eventually Bart cheated and grabbed Billy's pillow, yanking it away from him before tossing both pillows aside and tackling the other teen, pinning him down against the bed.

"Touché Bart! You win!" Billy laughed, not bothering to squirm out of the embrace as he chest heaved for breath from his exertions. "So... whatcha gonna do now?"

Bart looked a bit thoughtful for a moment, squinting that one blue eye at him as he considered his options. "Billy... you know, if we, you know, do this... I have to marry Margie. Even if I don't marry her, they'll find someone else for me." It was only right that Billy knew what his obligations were. As a king, he only had some much freedom to do as he wished.

"I know," Billy replied, sobering up rather quickly, "You're the King, you have to have an heir and I'm afraid I don't have the right equipment for that. I don't need to be in the spotlight, Bart... I just want to be with you. I love you..."

Hearing that, Bart took a deep breath, uncertain for the moment how to handle it. Billy loved him, but did he feel the same? As far as he knew, he'd never felt that way toward anyone, even if everyone rumored that he felt something for his kid cousin. Apparently his indecision was written all over his face, for Billy reached up to pat his cheek and chuckled at him.

"I'm not asking you to immediately give your heart to me either, Bart. Nor do we just have to have sex, I'm not the type for one night stands. Give it time... if you want me, I'm here. If you don't, I'll always be there for you anyway as a friend."

Bart would have replied to that, even opened his mouth as his mind formed a response, except that the doors to the bedroom crashed open at that point, Sigurd barging in without knocking or even announcing his presence. Bart froze, not because he was caught hovering above Billy as if the two were lovers, but because he immediately felt the urgency from his brother and read the fear in the man's face. "What happened, Sigurd?"

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Sigurd said, realizing he most definitely interrupted something, but attempting not to show he noticed. Both youths took note of the formality in his voice and Bart backed off from Billy, letting him sit up. "The Nisan Mother is missing, they fear she's been taken captive by some unknown force that's living in the mausoleum. Most likely the one that has been after you, Young Master."

Bart paled considerably, scrambling out of the bed to get dressed, "Then we gotta go get her."

"No, Young Master, you mustn't. I came here to ask Billy to accompany me back to Nisan," Sigurd replied sternly, looking now to the former Etone.

Billy looked between the two brothers and quietly got up to get dressed, himself. He could already see the argument about to ensue between them. Bart clenched his fists together, knuckles nearly white. "There is no way you are leaving me here alone, Sigurd. Not unless you want to tie me down and even then I will find a way to get free and chase all of you down to Nisan. If I am King, then this is my order. I am going to Nisan and that is final."

"Bartolomei Roni Fatima," Sigurd snapped in a tone of voice neither had heard before. "This entity has been after you and you alone all this time. We cannot afford to lose you to it, do you understand? Let me take Billy back to Nisan, we'll join the others in locating Margie and see her to safety." His tone softened soon after, becoming much more of a plea, "Please, Bart... just this once listen to me. Aveh cannot afford to lose you. I can't afford to lose you, you are my only brother."

Bart flopped back down on the edge of the bed, ire clearly furrowing those golden brows together and his arms crossed over his chest. "Fine," he spat out, his anger tempered only by the empathy he sensed from his brother, the worry there. That and he'd never heard anyone use his full name before in that manner. It convinced him that one way or another, Sigurd would somehow make sure he stayed in Aveh. Billy quietly continued to get into his clothing, pulling the robe over his head and adjusting it accordingly over his frame.

Sigurd sighed as he read the hurt and anger in his brother's expression, as well as felt both in heaping emotional doses. "Thank you, Bart. I promise you, we'll make sure Margie is brought back safely. Billy, meet me at the docks when you're ready, and make sure you are well armed."

After Sigurd departed, Bart continued to sulk as Billy gathered his things, including the gunbelt and his ammunition belt. "Bart, it'll be ok... Sigurd is just worried. Hell, I would be, too. I've seen what happens to you at night, it's like you're not even in control of yourself."

"Billy, I have always been there for Margie... I just," he sighed and leaned against the bed post, "She's family. She and Sig are all I got left."

Billy sat down beside Bart, leaning in to kiss his cheek and then brush tangled gold hair idly, "And she'll be fine if you're not there this time. Do you trust me?"

"Of course..."

"Do you trust Sigurd?"

"Well, yeah."

"Well, then quit worrying," Billy grinned and got up again, heading toward the door only to pause there and turn. "We'll bring her out alive."

Despite himself, Bart actually chuckled, "You make it sound so simple... just, take care of you too, ok?"

"Don't worry about me, Bart. I've been dealing with undead for years now."

And with that, he left the King's bedchamber to find Sigurd and head for Nisan.

(To be continued...)


	8. I'll Be There

Standard Disclaimer: Xenogears characters and settings belong to Squaresoft. 

**Part 8: I'll Be There**

As the crew of the Yggridsil prepared the ship for takeoff, Sigurd and Billy marched straight up to the bridge, the taller man shouting orders and giving final commands. Since Bart's coronation, the first mate had been named Captain, finally, and everyone jumped to his command alone, now. The Young Master was greatly missed by the crew, but understood that Bart had other responsibilities now, lots of them. In the bustle, however, no one noticed a cloaked figure stealing onto the ship from belowdecks. Even if someone spotted the stranger, there were too many things to be done and done quickly to get to Nisan for the Nisan Mother's safety to worry over one individual who didn't stand out immediately.

Bart took his time in getting around, forcing himself to be patient for once. There was no way in hell Sigurd was taking Billy and leaving him behind in Aveh. Margie was his cousin, too, and he'd always been the one to get her out of trouble in the past. So he was a king now, that didn't change a damn thing. One thing nice about having practically grown up on the decks of the Yggridsil, was that Bart knew every nook and cranny of the ship, including hiding places no one would ever think of looking in. And that's where he headed now, to the storage area and a particular vent that lead up to his old room. If he wasn't there, who would think to check his room? Besides, he kept it locked unless it was one of those rare times he was actually on board the Yggridsil these days.

The vent was dusty, and twice Bart paused to cover his mouth and try not to sneeze. It had the ironic tendency to tickle his nose whenever he was near a grate, with people down below, of course, who would have heard him. Though it made his sinuses hurt, he continued forward anyway, giving in to the urge once he crawled out into his old room and got the opportunity to dust off. The moment his feet met the floor, the ship lurched slightly, suggesting lift off. He'd arrived just in time. Now, so long as he kept quiet, it should be smooth sailing to Nisan. The king smirked to himself, so much for making him stay in Aveh.

By the time the Yggridsil made it to Nisan, it was well after dark. Billy and Sigurd disembarked and headed straight for the cathedral. There were lights on in the main hall, but the Sisters had already been evacuated from the religious structure, send into town for the time being. Citan, Fei, Elly and Emeralda were all gathered near the stairwell that lead down into the mausoleum. Clothing tattered, gore splattered, all four of them looked as though they made repeated attempts to infiltrate the tombs, only to regroup above again when things got rough.

"Thank God you're here, Sigurd," Citan said wearily, approaching the pair as they drew near. "It is not good, my friend. It seems that Edbart has the ability to reanimate the dead continuously. As soon as we've cut them down, he is bringing them back again. A vicious circle. I fear he may do the same to the rest of your ancestors, but we had no choice but to retreat."

Reaching out, Sigurd grasped his old friend by the shoulder, "Are you all right, Hyu? Billy and I will go in now. Billy has experience with undead, perhaps with his help we can lay this all to rest. You four should stay here, you look like hell warmed over."

Citan chuckled, adjusting his glasses before patting the taller man's hand, "Yes, Sigurd, we're fine if not a bit tired, but no. You should not go in alone, not even with Billy's expertise. We will all accompany you, if for no other reason than to help you get out should things prove insurmountable."

Fei and Elly nodded almost in unison, Emeralda merely held a steely determination in her eyes. Of the four, she appeared to be the least injured or harried. Sigurd looked at each of them before submitting with a nod. "Very well, let us make haste then, I dare not think about Margie's state at this moment if she has been a prisoner this long." If she were even alive, still, though Sigurd refused to believe otherwise.

Billy drew his pistol as soon as they entered the mausoleum, walking past the older relics of bygone eras and former kings. The one thing that convinced him of Stone's blatant hypocrisy was the fact that he still retained the powers that had been taught to him. Gifts from God, he had been lead to believe. Manners of dealing with those who were no longer among the living, but choose to feed on flowers not yet faded. These things remained with him, even after his faith had been shattered. If God did not exist, or if he were the created god of the Ethos, then Billy was sure he'd have lost such talents as quickly as he lost his faith. Margie pointed that out to him, once. The realization set him on the road to spiritual healing and understanding. A long road, for certain, but it sure beat wallowing in the brambles of doubt.

Edbart and his undead minions had not left the corridor near his tomb, the animated corpses of the refugees stumbling about like zombies. Most were missing something, an arm, an eye or two, chest cavities torn asunder and inner organs eaten away or half dangling toward the ground. The sight was disgusting, but nothing Billy had not seen before. They surrounded their master, the tall frame of Edbart startlingly similar to Bart and Sigurd, as if each of them gained a few of his features. Billy immediately sensed their true nature, even that of Bart's father, dead yet living, animated beyond the grave. They weren't even like Wels, who had been humans before experimentation, these were all true zombies and Edbart was something else entirely.

"Everyone stand back," Billy commanded, holding a hand out to gesture for them to stay behind him. "They cannot be killed by normal means. Knock them down and they will get back up. Destroy by fire, or holy magic."

"Fire is a specialty of mine," Sigurd replied with a touch of a smirk, battle stance ready. He alone did not step back at Billy's command. The others retreated slightly, though Citan stayed at the head of the group, hands glowing in case either needed immediate curing.

"Use caution, friends," the doctor warned, "If you die, Edbart will then use you against us."

"We have no intentions of dying today, Citan," Billy replied and the dance began as he fired his pistol at the first zombie. Edbart mutely gestured for all his minions to swarm them, only their slow movements saving Billy and Sigurd from being immediately surrounded and overwhelmed. The optical whip cracked again and again, the lithe form of Yggridsil's newest captain dancing in and away as he attacked, fire scoring his targets to cause wounds that eventually made them drop one after another. Billy concentrated all his faith into his pistol, each bullet a shot of holy magic straight into his targets. Between them both, bodies began to litter the floor between them and Edbart, though they did have to give up a little ground as the zombies continued to swarm over their fallen comrades. Sigurd cried out once as he came in too close, arm slashed by a crude knife to draw blood, but Citan was there in a moment, curing the wound before it had much time to bleed. Billy just kept his distance, his firearms providing him an advantage in not having to be close to his targets in order to strike. It almost seemed as if they would win, Fei and Elly cheering them on as the numbers thinned significantly.

So when those they'd just lain waste to began to get up again to resume the battle, Billy felt his jaw drop open. Sigurd even paused, though only a moment, for if he'd dallied a second more he'd have become zombie food, the whip cracking defensively in order for him to withdraw back to the others.

"That's impossible... how can they resist holy magic?" Billy cried in dismay, also stepping back to regroup.

"It's Edbart, somehow he is able to continue reanimating them," Citan sighed, "And we cannot get in close enough to engage him. We tried several times today."

"Then let me in," came a voice from behind. Everyone turned to see Bart standing there, his whips still coiled at his side as if he had no intention of using them.

"Bart!" Billy cried, even before Sigurd could sputter out an admonition to his wayward and disobedient brother.

"He wants me, Billy, Sig. I have to end this."

"No!" Sigurd shouted adamantly, knuckles white on the pommel of his whip, "God dammit, Bart, can't you listen for just once in your life?"

But, turning to look at the zombies, all of them realized they had halted their advance and even parted like the red sea, a direct path to Edbart, who stood at the center. The former King appeared almost human then, arms outstretched toward the sunhaired youth that was his youngest son. "Bartolomei... I knew you would come."

"Father..." Bart whispered, the expression on his face changing to that hypnotized vacancy Billy recognized. Just as the youth began to step forward, Sigurd grabbed his arm to jerk him back.

"No! Father, don't you recognize me? It's Sigurd, Shalimar's son! If you must have one of us take me!"

"Sig, no!" Bart cried, coming back to himself for the moment, jerked out from under Edbart's control. He tried yanking himself free from his brother, only to be pulled in against the taller man in an even tighter grip. Sigurd was not about to lose his baby brother now, not after defending his life for so long.

The former King paused, staring between oldest and youngest son in confusion. Regal brows of gold furrowed together and then he reached out again for Bart, "I want my son. Bartolomei, come to me."

Sigurd cursed under his breath, refusing to let go of the boy struggling against him, backing up as yet again the zombies resumed their forward movement toward the group. "Everyone back... we can't defeat him like this, there must be another way." At the same time, he could only lament poor Margie's fate, if she still lived she was probably terrified. But, amongst the groups of animated corpses, he saw nothing that looked like her. It inspired enough hope to believe that she must still be alive.

"Dammit, Sigurd, this isn't going to end unless you let me go!" Bart yelled, finally breaking his brother's grasp, backing up a step and dashing off before Sigurd could grab for him, his hand closing on air. Billy could only stare, mouth hanging open without him even realizing he was screaming Bart's name. Everything seemed to slow down then, every second, every heartbeat stretching out into infinity before painfully moving into the next.

Bart raced right through the corpses, completely untouched. None of them so much as turned in his direction. They halted their slow progression forward, however, standing there abjectly with gangly limbs hanging at their sides and dead gazes staring at the group hungrily until the king had passed, and then they gathered in to block the path, separating Bart from everyone, severing any ability to save him. Citan grasped Sigurd's arm to keep him from rushing forward blindly. His eyes were wet, expression sickened. "Hyu, let go..."

"No, my friend... Bart has made his decision. Your young one is a grown man now, Sigurd. He seems to know something we do not. And now... we cannot get to him anyway. Your suicide will not aid him."

Bart felt himself go into autopilot, going off instinct rather than logical thought or any sort of plan. He knew what he was doing... right? His father, Edbart IV, stood with arms outstretched and embraced the youth the second the distance between them closed. "My son, my son. I knew you would come to me. God how you've grown. When last I saw you, you were but a baby."

He felt alive, Bart could feel the heat from his touch, the strength in his grasp. For just a moment, he could forget that Edbart couldn't possibly be alive. He was reunited with his father at long long last and now he could be with him for all time. Drawing back, he smiled into those regal blue eyes, eyes that matched his own. "Father, it's really you. What... what did Shakhan do to you?"

A pained expression replaced the joy at the reunion and Edbart averted his gaze, drawing back further with his hands resting on Bart's arms. "It is a long story, son. But we are together again and no one will ever separate us. We will be together forever."

It was a smidge of blood on Edbart's tattered blue robes that redirected Bart's attention, reminded him of his goal in coming here. "Father... where is Margie?"

"Margie? She is alive, with her blood, we both will live for an eternity, you and I, father and son. Together."

"Father... we can't do that," Bart replied quietly, stilling the innate desire to cry out against the act. Edbart's brows furrowed again, confusion in his expression.

"What do you mean? Don't you want to be with me? Shakhan took everything from me. Tell me he did not take you, too."

"No, father," Bart replied quickly, "Shakhan never ever took me from you, I used to dream of you at night that I would somehow find you alive. But... you're not alive, are you. This body, this existance, this is not what you want is it. It is what Shakhan gave you."

The struggle behind Edbart's eyes gave away the indecision inside of him. The peaceful ruler battling against the inner will to survive. Bart continued, reaching to grab his father's hands, "Maison always spoke fondly of you and admonished me for not being more like you. You were always quiet and kind, he said. You were never violent to others, you wouldn't harm a soul if you could help it. Do you want to go on like this? Needing the blood of others to survive?"

"No... I..." Edbart squeezed his eyes shut and slowly lowered himself to his knees, hands still captured in Bart's. The youth crouched beside him, touching at his golden hair lovingly.

"Father... let's end this."

Edbart raised his chin, looking Bart directly in the eye. "Give me peace, Bartolomei. Please."

Wordlessly, Bart pulled a dagger out from his belt, the one he'd grabbed for this moment, hoping this encounter would go as he intended. Never taking his eyes off his father's face, he buried it to the hilt in the man's chest, watching him jerk, those regal features stilled in a moment of pain and then relaxing again, a smile fluttering across his lips just before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed in against his youngest son.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Bart grasped his father's body, feeling the warmth go cold almost immediately, "I love you, father. May God finally let you rest."

In that moment, every animated corpse suddenly collapsed to the ground, each soul at last allowed to depart. Citan could not hold onto Sigurd a second longer, the taller man bounding over the corpses in his path to reach the spot where his brother cradled the body of their father, who had at last been allowed to die with dignity. Billy wasn't far behind him, both surrounding Bart on each side, embracing him as he released his father, setting him on the ground gently and crossing his arms over his bloodied chest. The tears that flowed were unbidden, but they came anyway, streaming down like liquid diamonds between the three.

"Bart... don't you ever scare me like that again," Sigurd whispered, wiping at his face as he got to his feet again. "We need to find Margie... did he tell you where she was?"

Bart shook his head, still clinging to Billy as the two tried to still their tears. "No... but she is alive. She may be in his tomb."

By this time, Citan and the rest had approached, and Sigurd disappeared into the tomb, no longer afraid now that Edbart was truly dead and his control over the undead broken. There was a squeal of fear and surprise and that suddenly shifted to one of joy and relief. Margie, from the sound of it. Bart got to his feet and with Billy trailing behind him, raced into the tomb in time to see Sigurd pulling their cousin out of the crypt, her arms flung around his shoulders to hold onto him. "Bart, Billy! Oh God I'm so glad to see all of you!" As soon as Sigurd put her down, she raced toward Bart and threw her arms around his waist, reaching then for Billy to draw him into the embrace.

"Margie are you all right?" Billy and Bart asked almost in complete unison. They looked up at each other then and couldn't help but grin. Margie didn't even seem to notice, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... he didn't hurt me, but he he he... all the refugees..."

"Shhh," Bart soothed, touching her dark hair and smoothing it with his hand, "Let's not talk about it yet. Come on, perhaps we should get out of here."

No one, it seemed, disagreed with him on that point.

(Continued soon... no, I'm not done yet.)


	9. Epilogue: Settling the Dust

Standard Disclaimer 

Standard Disclaimer: Xenogears characters and settings belong to Squaresoft.

**Epilogue: Settling the Dust**

"She what?" Bart asked, blinking incredulously at Sigurd as the words tumbled forth. "She's refusing to marry me?"

"Yes..." Sigurd trailed off, averting his gaze in a way that only made the king that much more suspicious.

Bart leaned back in his chair, slouching in a manner unbefitting a King, but at the moment he didn't really care. In the two weeks since his father was finally laid to rest, permanently, he'd been far too busy catching up with business in Aveh and hadn't even spoken to Margie face to face since the memorial to the refugees. She wasn't angry with him then, just a little sad. They together decided to postpone wedding plans to allow her recovery time. Though she had been unharmed while in that crypt, psychologically she needed to spend her time in Nisan, refusing to become afraid of the cathedral she'd grown up in. She might never be able to go into the mausoleum again, but that was perfectly understandable.

Steepling his fingers, the king glanced briefly at Billy, who was also averting his gaze, staring at the floor. "Ok, who told her about me and Billy?"

"It wasn't me," Sigurd said immediately, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence, "I don't even really know -what- is going on between you two. Neither of you have been very forthcoming about it, you know."

"It was me," Billy admitted quietly. "She's not upset with you, Bart. She just wants you to be happy and she doesn't think you will be if you have to marry her and you don't want to."

Bart frowned, folding his arms over his chest. This was a bit disconcerting to him. Did he want to marry Margie? Not really, not when they were forcing him too, but now that she was refusing, it changed everything.

"Bart... you can't have your cake and eat it too, you know," Billy chided, which only made Bart glare at him.

"I didn't say I wanted you both... just... what did you tell her anyway?"

"That I'm in love with you."

"Nothing else?"

Billy blushed a bit, giving himself away without saying a word. "Well... I told her you kissed me. There's not much else to tell her, really."

"That's all I need to know, too, if you both will excuse me," Sigurd said, sidling toward the door to escape before he heard anything else. His brother's sex life wasn't on the top of his list of things to know anything about. But, before actually getting out the door he paused, turning back toward Bart, "Think of it this way, Bart. You've earned a brief reprieve from marrying anyone."

Billy hung his head as soon as the doors shut again, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything to her. But she asked me why I wanted to stay in Aveh rather than Nisan and I couldn't lie to her."

Bart got up from the chair then, crossing the room to stand in front of the other teen, lifting his chin with a finger, "Billy, don't be sorry. She would have found out eventually anyway. It's not like I love her that way. We're old childhood friends, she's family. I don't think it would have worked anyway, even if you weren't in the picture. Besides..."

"Besides what?"

"I forgot to tell you I love you."

(The end)

Special thanks to DeepWaters (who actually provided me with the basis for the scene where Billy confesses his feelings for Bart, thanks dearie!), LaughingBear, and Lost from Endless Dream MUX, who listened to me babble on about this endlessly and read my chapters as they came up. Also, a thank you to Kuja from Final Fantasy MUX, who showed me that adorable pic of a very young Bart and adolescent Sigurd, as well as snuggles and smooches to everyone else on Endless Dream MUX and Final Fantasy MUX who've been reading this as I wrote it and encouraged me to continue writing. You guys spoil me to death.

Soundtrack! Yes, this is what I was listening to primarily while writing this. Either that or the lyrics inspired the chapter.

"Mama Said" by Metallica

"Staring at the Sun" by Offspring

"Duvet" by BoA

"Ashes" by Danzig

"Free Through Eternity" by Indigo Girls

"World Coming Down" By Type O Negative

"Here is My Heart" by Pat Benetar

"All Murder, All Guts, All Fun" by Danzig

"I'll Be There" by Megadeth


End file.
